


And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

by swishandflick



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, References to Spanking, Smut, Wedding Planning, Wedding Rings, squint and you'll miss it pre-jonjon, this is 4k of just fluff, wedding vows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swishandflick/pseuds/swishandflick
Summary: Jonathan’s edited every single one of his pieces since they’ve gotten together.There’s no reason Ronan’s wedding vows should be any different.
Relationships: Ronan Farrow/Jon Lovett
Comments: 13
Kudos: 59





	And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Lover by Taylor Swift.
> 
> This is a silly, fluffy one-shot about Ronan and Lovett exchanging vows in private! There's mild allusions to pre-jonjon in this, but it is a rolo fic through and through. 
> 
> Please keep this secret and safe!

It started over dinner at the Vietor’s.

“I don’t see why not. Aren’t these supposed to be things your partner should already know?” 

Tommy smiles at him. “You know what, that does make sense.”

Jon swats at him with his napkin. “You wrote your vows and hid them in a safe, Tommy.” He turns to Ronan, eyebrows set in a frown. “Is romance dead? Come on, Ro! It’s supposed to be a surprise to your partner! Don’t you want to see Lovett cry with happiness?”

Ronan badly wants to retaliate that he’s content with seeing Jonathan only cry when Ronan’s got his mouth on him in bed, thank you very much. 

“I just think I’d like it in private, if you know what I mean. I want to discuss these things and our promises to each other, without there being an audience for it the first time, you know?”

Emily’s looking at him softly even as Jon shakes his head. She leans over and kisses Ronan’s cheek. “What?” Ronan can feel his cheeks reddening.

“Nothing, I just thought for like the thousandth time that you’re truly the person for Jon Lovett.” 

“Em,” Jon whines. “I really want to hear the vows!”

“We’ll still do vows,” Ronan assures him. “I just want to give him the proper one first.”

“Does Lovett know?” Tommy inquires.

“Dogs incoming!” Jonathan yells, as he and Hanna follow three excited doodles through the doorway, Pundit making a beeline for Ronan. “And I know everything Tommy, you know that.” He presses a kiss to Ronan’s lips, slipping on to his lap. 

Tommy looks fondly at the picture they make, practically glued together with Pundit next to them on the couch, her tiny, curly head resting on Ronan’s thigh.

“Ronan here was just telling us about his new plan to upstage the rest of us couples here by exchanging your vows in private?”

“Oh, that! Yes, we will be doing that. I told Ronan I’ll even edit his vows and not even control+F for my name this time, didn’t I, Ro?”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Okay, first of all, we will not be editing them, we will just exchange a version of them to each other, and then another one for the cere-”

“I’m not writing another version of the vows,” Jonathan shrieks, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

“See, this is what you get for being pretentious.” Jon smirked.

“Whatever Jon, you were America’s favorite speechwriter and Emily’s vows were still at least two times better than yours.” 

“Only because you helped me write them, babe.” Emily leans over to kiss the pout off of Jon’s face.

“Can I steal your vows, Emily? I did help write them, like you just pointed out.” Jonathan looks beseechingly at Ronan, who is looking at him with his patented “Jonathan you’re being a brat and I really dig it even though I’m going to act like I’m suffering” face.

“Lovett helped you write your vows?” Jon murmurs softly. Emily nods, still pressed to his side, a soft look on her face.

“Whatever Ronan, my two sets of vows are going to blow yours out of the park. I live for performance. You may also have your podcast now, but you don’t get to come for this, baby.” 

“Actually, why don’t you guys just exchange your vows, then exchange an editorialized version of them for the wedding?” Hanna inquires. “It’s just a lot of work to be writing two sets, and it’s not like you guys have all the time in the world.”

“Fair point, when you put it like that.” Ronan concedes. Jonathan lets out a dramatic whoop at that, leaning over Tommy to high five Hanna. “Thank you! That’s my girl! This is what I’ve been telling him, all this while! I am glad Mr. Pulitzer Prize listens to you, Hanna.”

Ronan presses a kiss to Jonathan’s cheek to pacify him. “You just weren’t getting your debate skills out yet, Jonathan.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ronan notices Jon stand up and grab Emily’s and Tommy’s empty glasses and head to the kitchen. An idea hatching in his head, he gently nudges Jonathan off of his lap and follows Jon into the kitchen.

xxx

Jon hasn’t said anything for about three minutes now, and even for someone who’s sat through extremely stressful interviews on and off camera, Ronan’s wondering if this is normal in this situation.

“They’re...good.” Jon says, his voice gritty. He clears his throat and repeats, “It’s good, Ronan. Great, even. Yeah.”

“Okay, thanks buddy, really helpful.” Ronan wonders if he should have gone to Tommy, though he can’t really be blamed for going to the guy who wrote all the hope and change speeches for President Obama and expecting more than monosyllabic platitudes. Emily, he’ll show these to Emily. But Jonathan probably already ran his by her, so maybe he should-

“Sorry,” Jon laughs. “I am just a bit..” Ronan watches as Jon moves toward the refrigerator to grab a couple of beers, and knows that he’s giving himself space to work the tender expression Ronan happened to catch off of his face. 

Ronan won’t press him though. He and Emily exchange knowing looks and sometimes eye rolls at each other whenever something like this happens, but they’ve decided they’ll try to let their Jons work it out first, if they can.

“I know you don’t like beer, but this is the fruity stuff Emily and Jonathan like, so try this.” Jon slides an opened bottle towards Ronan. “And I’ll grab a pencil.” 

xxx

Ronan’s not sure what the etiquette for private vow exchanges are. Should he put on a suit? Their wedding suits are already hanging in their closets next to each other, maybe he can slip his on? He decides against it, trying to convince himself it’s decidedly not because he’s averse to removing his suit from next to Jonathan’s. Love makes him sentimental. Or maybe it is Jonathan. Well, same thing, really.

In the end, he settles on a well-worn, fitted sweater that he knows Jonathan likes on him, and a soft pair of sweats that once was Jonathan’s, but is now both of theirs really. He thinks Jonathan of all people will appreciate that he went for comfort over fashion for their little ceremony at home. 

Pundit’s already walked and is resting contentedly at the foot of their bed. Emily had called earlier to ask if they’d wanted her and Jon to pick up Pundit for the night, but Ronan refused, wanting her around for what Jonathan’s been calling “vows ceremony but one that will lead to sex immediately.”

Ronan’s glad for her steady, comforting presence now. He hadn’t expected to be this nervous for this, not more than during those weeks of waiting in agony and breathless anticipation for Jonathan to read the proposal in his book draft. He sits on the bed and lets Pundit climb into his lap, and buries his face and anxieties in her fur.

Jonathan finds them like this when he walks in twenty minutes later.

“Hi,” Jonathan’s voice carries down the hallway, and Ronan can hear the distant sounds of him dropping his keys into the metal tray by the door, and then rapid footsteps approaching their bedroom.

“Hi baby,” Jonathan says again, smiling at Ronan, leaning down to press a kiss to his head and then one to Pundit’s. “Hi angel, were you good for dad?”

“She was perfect. Hey, I picked out a bow tie for her for the wedding, you want to see?” Ronan pulls Jonathan down next to him, kissing his cheek. He feels so much calmer now that he’s here. This is going to be fine. More than fine. Ronan plans to end the night with promises made, a great set of vows, and also, hopefully, naked.

“In a second,” Jonathan responds, picking Pundit off of Ronan’s lap so she can slide to the floor. “First I want to do _this_.” He swings a leg over Ronan’s lap and kisses him, arms wrapped tightly around him. They make out messily for minutes, Ronan trying to thrust up against Jonathan’s already hard dick. This was escalating in a diversionary way though, so Ronan pulls his lips away after another minute. 

“Shh, darling, listen. _Listen_,” he adds, as Jonathan whines, trying to reclaim Ronan’s mouth. “Let’s do the vows, yeah? And then we do this.”

“What will you give me if I read you my vows?” Jonathan asks innocently, but Ronan’s been with him enough years now, done this enough times that he sees it for what it is.

“Behave,” he punctuates it with a light slap across Jonathan’s ass, who shrieks a little and jumps. “And I am going to put you over my lap and spank you nice and good before I fuck you, if you behave.”

Jonathan looks at him darkly for a moment, and then climbs off of his lap after pressing a deep kiss to Ronan’s lips.

“I’m going to..go get mine. My vows.” He looks shy all of a sudden, his hands twisting into each other, a nervous tick. “See you in the living room?”

Ronan pats his pocket to make sure the speech is still there. He doesn’t really need it. But it’s a talisman, of sorts. And he’ll need it when Jonathan invariably goes all editorial on him.  
“See you,” he whispers softly. His heart thuds loudly as he watches Jonathan leave the room.

xxx

Ronan clears his throat a couple of times. 

Jonathan bursts out, “Should I go first?” as Ronan starts, “Jonathan Lovett.”

They both stare at each other for a second and then burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” Jonathan wheezes, clutching Ronan’s hands tightly between his. “I am sure Emily will come at us with a pitchfork if we mess up the vows and slow her schedule down.”

“Let’s just elope,” Ronan whines half heartedly. He doesn’t really want to, he thinks, not after all the effort everyone’s put into their small, private ceremony. But there’s a certain draw to it still, to bundling up Jonathan in his arms and going away as far as they could, as far as it’s needed to keep him safe and _with him_. Ronan tries not to dwell on it too much.

“Again, Emily, pitchfork. And our moms.” Jonathan presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. They’ve been wordlessly committed to reduce their makeout sessions until they get on with this exercise. “And besides, isn’t this already some kind of commitment ceremony? We’re being..naughty? Is that a good word for this? Whatever, screw it, we’re being naughty, exchanging vows before our wedding. One could say we’re already promising each other everything, till death do us part, the whole nine yards.”

It’s like every word is carefully designed to make Ronan’s anxieties crumble until he’s positively quivering while holding on to Jonathan’s arms. He moves forward and buries his face in Jonathan’s neck, feeling the warmth on his own face match the redness blooming down Jonathan’s neck, disappearing down into the collar of his long sleeved tee shirt. His throat feels entirely too big for him to frame another word, so he tries to take a few deep breaths, letting Jonathan’s smell and presence calm him, bring him back to earth.

_Commitment. Promising each other everything. _

“Jesus, is that..” Jonathan starts, and Ronan squirms embarrassedly in his arms, trying to will his erection down. 

“If you’re like this now how are you going to be when you’re finally my husband?” Jonathan says wonderingly, and that’s it, that’s that, Ronan lets out a loud whine as he abandons all shame and rubs his dick against Jonathan’s hip. 

“Oh my god, okay, take five.” Jonathan lets out, stepping out of the circle of Ronan’s arms, but not before pressing a bruising kiss to his lips. Ronan can see how dishevelled he looks, his dick looks painfully hard in his jeans, and his tee shirt is all twisted up.

“We should have asked Emily or Hanna to moderate.” Ronan laughs a bit maniacally. He adjusts himself in his sweats, watching Jonathan catch the motion, eyes widening.

“You’re a menace,” Jonathan groans. “Go put your face and your dick away, get some water and calm the fuck down, come back here and let’s finish this and go to bed.”

“You make it sound so romantic, baby.” Ronan presses a kiss to the side of Jonathan’s face, but moves past him to walk to the kitchen. Water. He can do that.

And then their vows. His traitorous dick gives a twitch at that. _Fuck._ He was so fucked.

xxx

“Let’s sit down.” Ronan suggests as he walks back into the living room, carrying two large glasses of water. “But no dry humping. Or making out.” 

“You were the one who almost got off against me ten minutes ago, but okay.” Jonathan says, plopping on the couch with a heavy sigh. “Do you want that damn gravity blanket? Maybe that’ll help a bit with how irresistible you find me.” 

“Don’t insult the gravity blanket.” Ronan pouts. 

“It’s so-” Jonathan begins, rant lined up and ready to go, always. But Ronan thinks he can finally do this without freezing or laughing or getting too turned on to continue. He has the glass of water to thank, but also their easy banter.

“Jonathan Lovett,” Ronan begins, cutting Jonathan off, really glad to find that his voice is steady. Jonathan stops talking abruptly, his eyes locked on Ronan’s face. His cheeks are already faintly pinkening again.

“I’ve been to so many weddings, mostly with you.” Ronan’s hands are itching to reach out and grab any part of Jonathan, but he thinks he ought to behave until he is at least halfway through.  
Their knees are touching from where they’re sitting cross-legged on the couch though, so that helps. 

“I’ve thought about what I’d say to you, when I heard our friends and our family promise each other things at the altar. Because this is about promises, isn’t it? But then I thought, what do I say to you, because what _haven’t_ we promised each other?”

Jonathan’s lips are starting to part minutely in that way it does when he’s trying to compose himself. Ronan ploughs on before the lump in his throat can take over.

“I told you I’ll call you the night we first met, that was my first promise. And I did. And then, and then you told me you’ll come visit me in DC before I leave for England, even though you’d just moved to LA and we were only dating for two months-and you did. I promised you that my family will love you when I took you there for Christmas, and now they’re your family too. We promised each other we’ll skype every single night, and we did, even if it was for ten seconds.”

Jonathan’s eyes are shining now, and he’s looking down into his lap more often than not, like he can’t bear to look into Ronan’s eyes. “Look up at me, sweetheart.” Ronan nudges Jonathan’s chin with his fingers until they’re looking at each other, the corner of Jonathan’s eyes wet.

“We didn’t keep a few promises, but we kept so many others, even the unspoken ones. But here are the promises that I am making to you today, and maybe you can tell me which ones we can keep and which ones we amend.”

Ronan pauses here, looking at Jonathan inquiringly, who raises his eyebrows for a second, and then nods wordlessly. 

“Okay, so first, I promise to _never_ watch a movie or show we’d planned on watching together without you.” Jonathan makes an indignant noise as Ronan laughs, and it’s like the tension and emotion in the room had been deflated to a degree. 

“_It was one time, and I’ve told you so many times-_” Jonathan starts hotly, but Ronan reaches out to grab his hands and intertwines his with them. 

“I know, I know. I also promise to never be more than fifteen minutes late to dinner.” Jonathan snorts at this.

“I think _fifty_ minutes is our record right now, so I’ll take anything lower than that.” Ronan can still hear the weary _“Ronan, if you didn’t have time for dinner you should have just told me instead of making me wait here. Or maybe we just vow to get takeout and don’t go out for a while.”_

“I promise to not name our kids after Harry Potter characters before naming them after Star Wars characters.” Jonathan’s whole face goes soft at this, and Ronan has to noisily clear his throat to not sound as choked as he feels. “And I promise to love them and be as good a parent to them as I know you will be.” 

Ronan brings their joined hands to his mouth for a quick kiss. He’s the one finding it difficult to look into Jonathan’s eyes now, his own eyes feeling traitorously wet. 

“I still think Satchel the second has a nice ring to it.” Jonathan sniffs.

“Shut up,” Ronan laughs. “And if one of our kids isn’t named some variant of McGonagall I will strike.”

“Amendment passed.”

“Right. My next promise is to send Mandy Moore flowers every day for the rest of her life.” 

“Only if I can arrange them first.” 

“Of course.” Ronan tugs on Jonathan’s hands until he gets the hint and moves forward, his criss crossed legs draped over Ronan’s, who pulls out the crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and sets it on the coffee table.

“I wrote several more of these down so we can discuss them without having to bore our guests with them, but here’s my final set of promises. Jonathan, I have loved you for as long as I’ve known you, loved you even when I thought we were going to call it quits, and I would have loved you even if we had. And I promise you now to love you even when we’re fighting about missed dinners and movies, and I promise to always fight for you and protect you like you’ve always fought for me and protected me. Still fight for me and protect me, every day. You know it’s hard for me to believe in marriage, given my family. But you know what finally convinced me that this is what I wanted?”

Jonathan can’t even speak now, his mouth quivering so much as he noisily rubs at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. 

“I only remembered how much you stuck with me through the worst years of my life, and you held me together and pulled me through and did not give up on me even when I was going insane. I didn’t know how you looked at me the same way whether I was relaxing with you at home with our dog, or frantically yelling at you deliriously on Facetime night after night that I was scared for my life. And I thought that if that wasn’t already a promise made in sickness and in health, then what was? When I put that proposal in the draft, I even thought of including a joking “We already fight and love like a married couple-want to make it official?”

“Fuck you,” Jonathan breathes out, ripping his hands away from Ronan’s and instead throwing himself at him, his legs encircling Ronan’s hips. “Fuck, fuck, _Ronan-_”

“I am not quite done yet.” Ronan interjects, his arms coming up to hold Jonathan steady in his lap. “But almost there. I only wanted to add that I can’t wait to call you my husband, and I love you. I love you so much, I-”

“Okay,” Jonathan rushes out. 

“What?” Ronan asks bemusedly. He’s been so focused on Jonathan’s face that he’s only noticing that Jonathan’s been squirming in his lap, digging for something in his pocket.

“I said okay. Let’s not wait.” Ronan’s eyes drop to focus on the small, velvet covered box in Jonathan’s hands. His heart’s starting to beat faster again.

“I don’t understand- are you proposing to me? We’re already engaged?” Ronan then realizes how his blabbing sounds, so he rushes to add, “But I mean, of course you can-”

“I am not proposing to you, I am saying let’s exchange rings when we exchange vows. Let’s not wait to call each other husband for a whole month when we could be doing it right now.”

Ronan stares at the box held securely in Jonathan’s hand, and then moves to open it. His hands are shaking. Nestled inside are two gold rings, laying side by side. Ronan recognizes them as the rings they picked out with Emily and Tommy two weeks ago. Jonathan must have sneaked it from Tommy somehow.

“You want to get married now?” His voice is cracking, like his throat is full of tears because it is, and he hardly has time to chastise himself for it as he leans forward to capture Jonathan’s mouth in his. It’s alright, they are both in the same state. Ronan thinks if he lets go of Jonathan now, he’s going to float away like a balloon filled with happiness. 

_“Jonathan will catch me,”_ he thinks nonsensically.

“I mean, we can’t sign anything yet until the actual ceremony, but the rings we can do, yeah. I thought it could be our own little secret. And Tommy’s I guess, when he notices the rings are gone and I text him to tell him I stole them.” Jonathan leans forward to kiss him again once, then again. 

“Of course I will be your husband right now.” Ronan breathes, taking Jonathan’s ring from the box and slipping it onto Jonathan’s waiting finger. It looks..Ronan has no words for how good, how _right_ it looks. It looks like finality. It looks like love. And promises.

Ronan holds out his own hand, and a second later, his finger is adored with an identical ring. They both spend a minute just staring at each other’s hands.

“Well, I now pronounce us husband and husband. Husbands. But not in front of our moms until the wedding. And if they ask this was your idea. But yeah, husbands.” Jonathan laughs wildly. 

“You’re so ridiculous.” Ronan’s pressing kisses everywhere on Jonathan’s face, his eyelids, his nose, his cheeks, his curls. He can’t stop touching him, the urgency from earlier coming back in full force.

“Off, get your shirt, your pants, _off_-”

“We’re doing my vows after.” Jonathan pants, grinding down on Ronan’s hard dick, whining as Ronan immediately takes a nipple in his mouth as he removes his tee shirt. “Or tomorrow. I don’t know. But bed first, or couch is fine-”

“Bed, that’s where the lube is, come on.” It’s a battle for them to get to their bedroom while joined at the hip, rubbing against each other and stopping to lose clothes along the way, but _finally_,Jonathan’s shoved onto the bed and Ronan’s crawling over his torso, peppering his skin with kisses.

“Fuck me, please baby,” Jonathan gasps as Ronan brushes a hand against his hole while sucking a mark high on Jonathan’s neck. He is not sure if it’ll be hidden by anything other than a turtleneck or a scarf, neither of which Jonathan would wear. _Good_, Ronan thinks, _they should all know he’s mine. My husband. _

When Ronan slips into Jonathan, it’s those two words his mind is reduced to repeating over and over again like a mantra. _ Husband. Husband. Mine. Jonathan Lovett is my husband. _

“I don’t think I can promise I won’t slip up and mention that we exchanged rings,” Ronan confesses as they lay in bed later. He’s idly circling the mark he’s sucked onto Jonathan’s neck, now reddening prettily. 

Jonathan snorts from where his head is pillowed on Ronan’s chest. “With your poker face? Yeah, you won’t last an hour.”

“But you’ll protect me from Emily’s pitchfork?” Ronan inquires. 

“My vows do include something like that.” Jonathan intones. “And Emily added in some nice lines about video games.”

“Yeah? Jon helped me with mine.” Ronan feels Jonathan’s arm still at his chest, from where it’s idly drawing circles with his fingers. 

“Yeah? He’s a tyrant, did he make you do twelve million edits?”

“He gave me a few pointers, but mostly he cried.” Ronan presses a kiss to the top of Jonathan’s head. “Do you want to do yours now?”

“Okay,” Jonathan agrees. “But let’s stay in bed, so we can be ready for round two once I am done.”

“Whatever you want.” Ronan draws Jonathan in for a kiss before leaning up on an elbow to sit back against the headboard, a rumpled, naked Jonathan still in his arms.

“Ronan,” Jonathan begins, his eyes soft and earnest.

His heart skips a beat. Ronan thinks again that he is so fucked. But then, maybe that’s not a bad thing when it’s Jonathan.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! thanks for reading! 
> 
> Any comments or kudos are really appreciated! My tumblr is tenisperfection


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